


Sun and Moon

by Alina Starr (StarlingChild4)



Category: Disney Fairies
Genre: F/M, Fairies, Fairy Haven books, Feels, Fluff, Forever Ship Milarion!, Pre-Secret of the Wings, Retelling, Romance, Secret of the Wings, Secret of the Wings had NO RIGHT to come after my heart that way!, and yes that includes the Tinker Bell movies and books, hi I am a 20-something who is madly in love with fairies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlingChild4/pseuds/Alina%20Starr
Summary: A tale of when Neverland and Pixie Hollow was still young, when two young fairies, leaders of neighboring realms, meet for the first time and fall in love...Posted also on ff.net
Relationships: Clarion/Milori (Disney Fairies)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely ADORE fairies and have been dying to write about of my favorite fairy OTPs ever! A few FYIs: 
> 
> \- this fic is inspired by both the Tinker Bell Secret of the Wings and Gail Carson Levine's Fairy Haven books, so certain inaccuracies are bound to pop up 
> 
> \- one noted example that I will address now: the Ministers of the Seasons. Before Secret of the Wings, there was an unnamed Minister of Winter present in the first couple Tinker Bell movies... which kinda makes no sense, considering Lord Milori's role and the "law" about Warm and Winter fairies not interacting with each other... So, for the purposes of this fic, I solved that little problem and turned the "Ministers" into Lords and Ladies, with only Spring, Summer, and Autumn always present by the Home Tree, while the Lord of Winter, Milori, does his thing. Because why not? 
> 
> \- this fic focuses on the budding romance of Clarion and Milori, with the prologue being my retelling of how Neverland (and fairies) came to be. 
> 
> If anyone out there still reads Disney Fairies fics, I hope you enjoy my first venture into this territory! <3

Legend had it that it was after Mother Dove molted her first magical feathers when the first laugh reached Neverland’s shores. 

This all took place long before the days of Peter Pan making his eternal home there, when the Never Never Land was not named yet. It was simply an island, a wondrous and strange land with impossible landscapes and seasons blending together. But if you will humor me, dear reader, we will refer to Neverland as Neverland from here on out, for everything has a true name even long before it is granted to them. 

Neverland was originally a normal little island, off the coast of some normal faraway land in some normal vast ocean. But one day, a not-so-normal storm swept the island right off the face of the earth. It wasn’t submerged, like the lost city of Atlantis, but rather took flight, on the back of the wind, up, up, up and away! Neverland touched the stars and danced around the moon, before at last arriving second star to the right and straight on till morning. 

You don’t have to fly to reach Neverland, though it is considerably easier and straightforward to do so. Many of the inhabitants of Neverland – the Indians, the pirates, the Lost Boys – were merely wandering souls who stumbled upon the shores of Neverland. Perhaps they were called to it, perhaps they found a secret way to reach a second star without flying on the back of the wind or having a pair of wings. Sometimes, very rarely, you had the benefit of a guide, like the famous Darling children found in the equally famous Peter Pan, but it was best not to bank on such hopes. 

Neverland was a place of wonder, joy, danger, adventure, and eternity. All children believed in it, few adults remembered it, and all fairies, both from Neverland and those who dwell on the Mainland, knew of it. 

Some say Neverland was born from human civilization taking root, but no one knew for certain. 

But the fairies did know that Mother Dove was the one of oldest living magical inhabitants of Neverland. She was there when the storm brought Neverland from earth to the second star to the right, and she was the first animal to gain intelligence caused by the magical storm. 

And her life was not the only miracle to survive that magical transformation. There was also Brother Dove, younger sibling to Mother Dove, who survived the storm. Shortly after Mother Dove began to speak and think and understand deep thoughts, Brother Dove followed suit. 

But it was Mother Dove’s egg that was the most important miracle. During the storm, she kept it safely tucked under the wings while her world ripped itself asunder and flew off into the celestial skies. And somehow, it miraculously remained uncracked. And yet, it did not go unchanged; soon it came to pass that this egg was what provided the magic and power that held Neverland together in its eternal youth and beauty. 

But let us return to the story. After the dust settled from the sudden upheaval from the mundane to the wondrous, Mother Dove molted her first feathers. Perhaps it was fate, coincidence, or Mother Dove’s own feathers that called forth the first laughs. 

_“When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.”_

Before Neverland’s existence, babies’ laughs scattered about the world, dispersing fairies into a thousand and one different countries, a thousand and one different realms. 

Laughs that alighted on tree tops and flower beds became flower fairies, and there they stayed. 

Laughs that dove into ponds, lakes, rivers, and even the seas became water fairies, and there they also stayed. 

Laughs that danced in the roaring flames of a warm hearth became fire fairies, and there they stayed as well. 

Sometimes, a laugh took in a little more “human” than intended when it broke free from the baby, and those became elves, brownies, and leprechauns. Because of their closer affinity to human beings (though they will never admit it, of course), their kind always hovered close to civilization, always eager for a little “harmless” fun in pranking the hapless, foolish humans. Sometimes, though quite rarely, they even deigned to befriend a human. 

And thus, it was, and so it will always be. Laughs always choose where to go, and until Neverland was created, many, many laughs remained suspended in the world, little balls of light that humans confused for fireflies. Some called them will o’ the wisps, or fairy lights, and warned their curious children to stay away from their alluring light. 

But of course, those suspended, unfulfilled laughs never hurt anyone. They were the very embodiment of laughter and joy and were perfectly content to bounce about without a form or a place to call home. Even other fairies ignored their presence, only sometimes summoning them for lighting up festivities. 

But then, Neverland was created. Mother Dove survived the magical storm and laid her egg. 

And then, she molted. 

Legends passed among human mouths, sometimes, from those who remembered the ancient tale, of a year in which thousands and thousands of balls of light were seen rising from the earth and into the night sky. 

The suspended laughs were being called, called at last to their true home, their true purpose. 

The first of two laughs landed on Mother Dove’s nest. It alighted gracefully, on two feet clad in golden slippers, and suddenly, the laugh was no longer a laugh but a beautiful fairy, fully formed and wearing a glowing gown of golden sheen. 

“Hello, Queen Clarion,” Mother Dove cooed affectionately. 

“I am a Queen?” Her voice was soft, hesitant, yet steady, like she knew deep down in her heart, but needed the reassurance. 

Mother Dove understood. She ruffled her feathers in a smooth ripple down her back, like she was chuckling gently. “Yes, my child of laughter. Soon, your brothers and sisters will arrive, and you shall help guide them. They will all have unique talents, of course, just like yours as Queen is unlike any other. My tree,” she gestured with a wing, “will be your new home. And my feathers will provide you with magic and flight.” 

Queen Clarion nodded solemnly, her brand-new wings fluttering with excitement. “May I ask, Mother Dove” -- she didn’t have to ask for the name, as her heart knew it as surely as she knew her role as Queen of the fairies -- “what is the name of our home?” 

“That is up to you.” 

After careful consideration, the new Queen of the Never Fairies dubbed the tree where Mother Dove nested “Pixie Dust Tree” and the valleys and forests surrounding them “Pixie Hollow,” though it would sometimes be also known as “Fairy Haven” in the future. Shortly after, as she was deep in conversation with Mother Dove, two new laughs landed by the nest. 

They introduced themselves as simply “Mary” and “Gary” and seemed to be laughs from a pair of human twins, hence their surprisingly human sounding names. Queen Clarion found them endearing, however, and deemed them the official heads of their Talents: Tinkering and Dust-Keeping, alike. Fairy Gary figured out how to grind Mother Dove’s molted feathers into pixie dust, and Fairy Mary made certain that the machines built for their purpose were manageable and sturdy. 

Soon, many others joined. Following the Heads of Tinkering and Dust-Keeping, came the arrival of the Lords and Ladies of the Seasons, namely of the three warmer ones. 

“But where is the Lord of Winter?” Queen Clarion asked. The Lord of Spring and the Ladies of Summer and Autumn looked around themselves nervously, but had no answer. 

“He is here, do not fret,” Mother Dove cooed. 

At that moment, Brother Dove called from up above, with a basket in his beak. Inside it, were various welcome gifts and a letter from the Lord of Winter, reassuring Her Majesty that newly born laughs of winter have already started arriving. 

And so, Queen Clarion answered back swiftly, sending Brother Dove back. 

She thought nothing more of it, though it would soon become a common correspondence. 

* * *

Unbeknownst to Queen Clarion, but very much known to Mother Dove, the second laugh to arrive in Neverland landed on the winter side of Pixie Hollow, even before the Lord and Ladies of the warmer seasons had. Brother Dove was waiting for that laugh’s arrival, having been informed by his sister that it was most important to greet the Winter fairies in her stead. 

Mother Dove could never leave her nest, so Brother Dove was her eyes and ears for the rest of Pixie Hollow’s comings and goings. 

The second laugh in Neverland, and the first of the Winter side, landed on Brother Dove’s tree. He straightened up, revealing a handsome, sophisticated sparrow man clad in a blue and grey warm coat. His wings were the same as any other fairy’s only with a slightly different sheen, showing its natural resistance to the cold air. 

“Greetings, Lord Milori,” Brother Dove cooed. “Welcome to Pixie Hollow, and to the Winter Woods. I have a message from Mother Dove...” 

Shortly afterwards, an “elderly” looking laugh arrived, who was hereby dubbed as the Keeper of All Never-Fairy Knowledge. But of course, fairies don’t actually “age” the way humans do, but some take on a different form as they please. 

And so, it began. Slowly but surely, lost laughs found their way to Neverland’s shores and filled up every corner of Pixie Hollow. Sometime after Pixie Hollow settled in its comfortable schedule of tinkering and dusting and gardening and many more Talents, a collection of curious laughs scooped up a small boy who refused to grow up and brought him to Neverland. 

Thus, Neverland got its true name at last, from the boy they called Peter Pan. As truly as every fairy knew Mother Dove’s name and identity, so did every creature know Peter Pan and Neverland’s names. 

Queen Clarion ruled Pixie Hollow in peace and harmony, with a few hiccups along the way from various kinds of mishaps and dangers that were swiftly solved by her capable fairy subjects. 

She continued to hold meetings with the Lord and Ladies of Spring, Summer, and Autumn for each passing season on the Mainland, and to continue writing correspondence to the mysterious Lord of Winter as well. 

But she never learned his name. 


	2. The Sun

_Once there was the sun..._

Never fairies were always diligent of each passing season, but if you were to ask a fairy how many years passed since the time of Pixie Hollow’s creation to the time they were now in, they would have no answer. They would cock their pretty tiny head to the side and ask what you meant. Fairies had no real grasp on time the way humans did, only of each passing day and seasons and the coming changes they brought. A hundred human years would feel like a mere handful of days to a fairy, especially of the Neverland variety. 

But let’s pretend for a moment that we do have an idea of when our story took place. It was when Neverland was still “young,” and yet old enough where most of the fairies did not actively remember the early days of Mother Dove’s first molting. Only Queen Clarion, the Lords and Ladies of the Seasons, Fairies Mary and Gary, and the mysterious Keeper from the Winter Woods remembered those days, though the details grew hazy over time unless one consulted a book. 

Queen Clarion loved her Talent as Queen of the Fairies, though she secretly harbored small envious feelings towards her loyal subjects. Other than perhaps the Lords and Ladies of the Seasons, there was no real “division” in station among the fairies. Dust-Keepers found love and friendship with Garden-Talents, and Water-Talents stirred the hearts among the Cooking-Talents. It mattered not the Talent or the “date” of when a fairy first arrived in Pixie Hollow; love could be found all around Pixie Hollow, though many preferred lifelong platonic friendships over romance. 

Still, Queen Clarion longed for the choice. 

Her role as Queen made it difficult to develop any genuine bonds. With perhaps the exception of Fairies Mary and Gary as her dearest and oldest friends, most could never see past her ethereal and royal stature. When her four handmaidens arrived, she rejoiced over additional companions, but still felt the bitter sting over only gaining friends because it was their “Talent.” 

Of course, Cinda, Grace, Liesel, and Rhia were all lovely and Clarion adored them. But there was something missing... 

An intimacy that could not be found among her normal subjects. 

One day, she felt rather suffocated inside the Pixie Dust Tree. It was during a lull period in summer time, when there was no real rush towards harvest nor any major holidays. Midsummer’s Eve had passed and most Never fairies were taking advantage of the quiet period to be languid and spend time with friends to gossip or exchange ideas for the upcoming busy season of autumn. 

Queen Clarion had no one to oversee, no events to plan, nothing of consequence to worry about. Suddenly, the lack of tasks after the bustling of springtime and Midsummer’s Eve seemed to drive her mad. She made some brief excuse to her handmaidens, and fled (quite literally) from the Tree. 

Other than greeting nearby fairies while flying by, Queen Clarion was quite determined to go somewhere quiet. She flew past the Summer Glade (feeling quite done with the season already) and headed to Autumn Forest. The beautiful red-and-gold hues of the leaves overhead never failed to enchant her; autumn meant busyness, harvesting, preparing the Mainland for the oncoming chilling of the earth. It felt nice to have something to do, because Autumn was so important, Queen Clarion often had hands-on experience with helping her fellow fairies. 

Suddenly, Clarion found herself flying past the border between the warm seasons and the Winter Woods and came to a screeching halt. Her Queenly role granted her a grace that surpassed most fairies, so her sudden stop didn’t trip her up. She flew back slowly, gazing at the log bridge between worlds with an interest she had not felt before. 

Being Queen of the Never fairies, most of her time was spent close to the Pixie Dust Tree, only with commonly visiting Spring Valley and Summer Glade, and annual visits to Autumn Forest. But she could not ever recall actively visiting the Border between Autumn and Winter. 

She had always known the Border was there, of course. Mother and Brother Doves informed her of much, and her written correspondence to the mysterious Lord of Winter certainly kept her up to date on anything needed on the other side. 

But she never had actually seen snow before. 

White, soft, and silent, the Winter half of the Border practically breathed of enchantment. Snowflakes continually fell, creating a gossamer curtain and emphasizing the two sides all the more. Clarion wondered vaguely if she could part the scattered lines of falling snow like a veil to duck into another world. 

But this “curtain” did not block anything from her sight. On the contrary, she could clearly see the tall, magnificent trees, the only things she recognized in its ivory surroundings. 

It was just so … white. 

Surrounded by a myriad of colors on the Warm side, Clarion was oddly mesmerized by the sheer lack of it in Winter. Not to say that Winter was dull or colorless, just limited to mostly dark evergreen on the trees, and even those were muted by the sheer heaviness of solid white. 

It was like a land made up entirely of clouds!

Feeling rather giddy at the thought, Clarion uncharacteristically giggled and drew closer, settling her feet on the very edge of the Warm side of the Border. 

Up close, she could feel the breath of Winter’s cold, just enough to marvel at it, but not overwhelming to her senses. 

Still, she instinctively understood that the cold would probably be too much to bear if she went too far, so she contented herself with peering beyond the snowy veil, perhaps teasing her nose or fingers by brushing the snow on the edge. 

It was like she was standing before a precipice, wingless and alone, with a fascinating fear of the possibility of what would happen if she took the leap...

* * *

According to the Winter Dust Tree’s ever-changing calendar, Summer was still in swing. The Winter fairies were growing restless. Many chose to half-hibernate until mid-Autumn, others became extra diligent in their frosting practices. Still others took the opportunity to harness their playing skills, with teams forming in snowball fights, the fiercest competition in all of Pixie Hollow. 

Lord Milori, however, had no particular interest in any of these activities at that moment. 

Even on Winter’s side of Pixie Hollow, the summer sun managed to feel too bright and hot for his liking. It wasn’t enough to melt the snow or cause harm to their wings, of course, the magical barrier around the WInter Woods made sure of that, but there was a marked difference in the air. 

Restless himself, Lord Milori excused himself from the Keeper’s many lectures on autumn preparations (that would not be a worry for another two moon cycles!), and flew off into the depths of the Woods. 

It wasn’t that he intended to draw near the Border, but he ended up there, regardless. Curious, he gazed out at the world of reds, yellows, and oranges, only familiar with those colors from Dewey’s many books and certain winter fruits and blossoms. But in his world, those colors were still limited, in small spots, not this… painted canvas! 

While staring out at the Autumn Forest, he noticed a bright, golden light glowing brightly on the Border’s edge. For a moment, he wondered if the sun itself had descended unto the land, but he rubbed his eyes and looked again. 

It was a fairy! 

A Warm fairy with the hue and luminance of the sun! 

Milori drew closer, his heart thundering in his chest, secretly questioning his own eyes. 

But sure enough, the Fairy Who Looked Like the Sun turned and locked eyes with him. 

They were a soft blue, in contrast with her gleaming yellow hair and dress and wings. 

Her mouth fell open in surprise, her wings did a nervous little flutter, but she remained where she was while Milori joined her, facing her opposite on the Border. 

“Do not be frightened,” he said quickly when her eyes widened in surprise. “I only wish to greet you.” 

The golden fairy swallowed then cleared her throat. “I suppose introductions ought to be made. Fly with you, I am Queen Clarion of Pixie Hollow.” 

Milori’s heart flipped over, but he managed to maintain his composure. “Fly with you, I am Milori, the Lord of Winter.” 

Queen Clarion gasped. “We’ve never met before! I am so sorry I never took the time to--”

“It’s quite alright. I imagine a Queen has far more duties than a mere Lord, and I myself had not the time to seek out your personal counsel.” 

She blushed prettily; the pinkness of her cheeks mingled with her golden aura, giving her the orange glow of happiness that all fairies possessed. “You’ve been very detailed in your reports,” she blurted out, looking rather flustered. 

“I must, in order to make sure my Queen understands what is necessary for the coming of Winter.” Milori’s throat was rather dry. This formality talk was the only thing keeping him calm, and yet he longed to break it, to grab hold of her hand or something else scandalous. 

“Please, call me Clarion. We’ve addressed each other so formerly in the past, but now that we’ve met, I wish to become friends.” 

He licked his lips, staring deep into her eyes. “Of course. But only if you address me as Milori.” 

“I shall… Milori.” 

“Clarion.” 

They talked some more, the hours slipping past them like flour through a sieve. It wasn’t until the setting sun began casting dark shadows over their faces when they fully realized how late was the hour. 

They hurriedly apologized to one another and almost flew away in opposite directions, before Milori stopped and called after Clarion: “Wait! When shall I see you again?”

Queen Clarion halted as well. Even from a distance, Milori could see the startled look on her face, before melting into a smile. 

“Tomorrow at sunset. I’ll meet you at the Border.” 

And then she disappeared into the colorful Autumn Forest, her trail of pixie dust scattering to the winds. 

Lord Milori gazed ahead for a while longer, then reluctantly turned around and headed back to the Library. 

“Well, you took your sweet time gallivanting off doing who knows what!” Dewey greeted him grumpily from his perch of writing another book. 

Milori grinned, knowing it was only a front. “Forgive me, Dewey. I was… distracted.” 

“By what? Did you find some new species that the Animal-Talents have to take care of?” 

“Not a new species… but definitely something new,” Milori murmured, running his fingers over the blocks of ice forming the endless towers of original drafts of Dewey’s many notes. 

“Eh? What was that?” 

“Nothing, Dewey. I think I’m going to take a flight.” 

“Take a fl--? But you only just got back!” 

But Milori was already long gone, willing the cold night air to clear his head. 

Clarion…

He wondered if the summer sun, the one he was so agitated towards earlier that day, could be sealed into fairy-form. Or if a ray of sunshine doused her laugh when she arrived on Neverland’s shores? Were all Fairy Queens so lovely? He had read the stories of Mainland fairies and certainly saw the records of Pixie Hollow’s first day when he and Clarion arrived on opposite sides of their realms, but he never imagined that her radiance would be so.... 

_Enchanting._

As Milori settled down for the night, watching the moon and stars replace the brilliant sunset, he eagerly awaited the next afternoon, when the sun dipped low on the horizon once more... 


	3. The Moon

_Once there was the moon…_

“Doesn’t the cold bother you at all, Milori?” Clarion asked, after thrusting her arm past the snowy barrier and instantly drawing it back, rubbing it warm with her other hand as she shivered. 

Milori chuckled softly. “Doesn’t the heat bother _you_ , Clarion?” 

Clarion flushed, her glow turning soft orange. “I’m in the Autumn Forest, so hardly.” 

“Does the sun feel like it will melt you like an icicle?”

“Only sometimes, when it’s a particularly hot summer, but even so, we keep cool with the help of our Water-Talent fairies casting misty arches in the gardens and our Tinker-Talent fairies building fans.” 

“During particularly brutal winters, our Frost fairies stay very busy cocooning our Pixie Dust and our homes.” 

“Isn’t frost cold as well?” 

Queen Clarion listened with burning ears as Lord Milori explained the dynamics of frost insulating heat from within, her wings fluttering excitedly as she learned something foreign, fascinated by Milori’s calm words. It had been several weeks since their sunset meetings started and the two of them had grown into a comfortable routine of hours long conversation. She could never tire of Milori’s company, even as they remained separated. 

Perhaps it was the deep lull of his voice. 

Or the penetrating gaze of his mesmerizing eyes…

“Is it true that rainbows exist?” he asked now, his gray eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Yes,” Clarion gasped, her pounding heart making it rather difficult to formulate words. She cleared her throat. “Y-yes… it’s quite a sight. Even Light-Talent fairies, who create them, never tire of watching them spread across the sky after a rainstorm.” 

She described fairy games of riding down the arch of a rainbow, and the often hilarious results of fairies covered from head to toe in green or yellow rainbow dye, and as she spoke, she tried desperately to not notice the way Milori’s head tilted thoughtfully, or the softness in his eyes, or the beautiful lilt in his voice with every laugh… 

It has been said that fairies are so small they can only truly experience one emotion at a time, and with an intensity that would make the most passionate of humans blush. That is only half-true, dear reader: it is true that when a fairy feels an emotion, they feel it immensely, like their whole body will explode from it, be it anger, jealousy, happiness, or love. But there is still just enough to feel another emotion, although it is rare for a fairy to admit that. 

Clarion’s blossoming feelings of tenderness for Milori was tinted with dull pain, knowing that they would be forever separated by a curtain of snow. 

She mindlessly reached out and let snowflakes brush against her fingers. This time she did not flinch away from the cold, though her skin tingled unpleasantly. And yet, she imagined that with a proper coat to protect her body, she could actually… enjoy the touch of snow. 

Milori caught her hand. “Please, don’t push yourself,” he said quietly, but he didn’t let go. 

Clarion licked her lips. “I won’t but… I want to feel it.” 

“Only for a moment. Do you promise?”

“I promise.” 

Milori nodded, his eyebrows contracted in concern, but he obliged her request by gently pulling on her hand. Clarion took a deep breath and plunged past the Border. 

Instantly, icy cold enveloped her body. She shivered violently, and shut her eyes tightly. Milori’s hand was the only warmth she felt, and she clutched him all the more tightly. 

“You’re alright… Open your eyes.” 

She released a shuddering breath and reluctantly obeyed. Snowflakes were already landing on her eyelashes; their touch reminded her of downy feathers of a baby bird, just cold and wet. Clarion looked around and truly saw for the first time the Winter Woods in all its beauty. Without the bright sun overhead to obscure her vision from the other side, she could see the tall evergreen trees marking the Forest’s entrance, the setting sun’s light hitting the snow and icicles creating different hues than one would imagine in a white wonderland. 

It was getting darker now, as the sun sank lower on the distant horizon, and the moon rose on the opposite end of the sky. In a matter of moments, the moon was shining its alabaster glow almost as brightly as its sister celestial body, casting both the Warm and Winter sides of Pixie Hollow in a lovely nightly, velvet coat. 

Ahead of the two fairies, one shivering, the other watching her with a mixture of affection and worry, a patch of snow was suddenly lit up by a trail of moonlight that filtered through the trees. Clarion gasped; the white wonderland turned a gorgeous sheen of silver and blue! 

“You must go back, now.” Milori’s voice seemed to come from the end of a tunnel. 

Clarion nodded, unaware that her teeth were chattering loudly until she stepped back across the Border and let the warmth of her world cocoon her body and wings. She tried to flutter her wings, but they were still too stiff. Instinctively, she knew not to exert herself, taking an extra step back into Warm territory and allowing her wings to breathe. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Clarion blinked, staring back across the Border, where Milori stood on the edge, looking utterly forlorn. He spoke again: “I endangered you. It was selfish of me. I’d fly backwards if I could, my Queen.” 

“It’s Clarion, Milori, please don’t be formal now.” Clarion inhaled and exhaled deeply, welcoming the warmth of the otherwise cooler Autumn season to fill her from head to toe. “And don’t apologize. I wanted to join you on the other side. I--” she locked eyes with him, “I wanted a chance to be by your side.” 

Milori’s mouth fell open slightly, his eyes deep with an emotion Clarion could not name. All she knew was that his gaze was causing her heart to thunder, her chest to constrict, her breath to quicken. 

“... Did you find my realm … satisfactory?” Milori asked, his tone delicately level, but his eyes penetrated Clarion’s very soul. 

She swallowed, her voice shaking slightly. “Winter is a beautiful season. I am honored that we make the preparations to both welcome Winter’s time and to sweep away until the following year.” 

“It makes my job look rather simple, does it not?” Milori said with a dry smile. 

“No, no, I think it takes great care and-- and precision to make a world of white look so…. colorful.” 

Clarion blushed, ashamed that she could not express herself better, but Milori seemed pleased by her words. His smile was soft, but genuine, glowing with a tenderness that made her heart soar. 

_He is like the moon… quiet, reserved, but so beautiful…_

“Next time,” he said, startling Clarion from her thoughts, “I shall join your end, for a moment. I wish to see what warmth does to create such… light.” He gestured to her, his fingers just barely extending past the barrier. 

She reached out and touched his fingers with hers, gently pushing back until their aligned hands remained on each side of the Border. They shared a collective breath, then joined fingers with their other hands, keeping them just below their faces. Each pair of hands delicately touching each other, as if separated by a thin sheet of glass, Queen Clarion and Lord Milori stared hungrily at each other. 

“Tomorrow, then?” Clarion breathed. 

“Tomorrow. At sunset. Let me truly see how the sun’s rays catch on the red and gold leaves of Autumn. And… to see the light shine in your eyes,” he added softly, breaking their touch with one hand by reaching out and cupping Clarion’s cheek. 

Clarion whispered a soft, “Oh, Milori,” covering his cold hand with her warm one. She entwined her other fingers with his remaining hand, and Milori stepped closer, drawing their joined hands to his chest until they were over his heart. 

And so they stayed for a little while longer, toe to toe against the curtain of falling snow, nearly nose to nose, hands joined in each other’s seasons, warm and cold, sun and moon. Clarion’s golden glow shone like a miniature sun against Milori’s silvery white light, and yet he also shone brightly as his thumb stroked her cheek, feeling as if his skin would melt off; Clarion clasped all the tighter on their entwined fingers pressed against his chest, feeling as her hand would freeze into pure ice. 

“If I could fly backwards,” Milori whispered, and it was only by their proximity that Clarion was able to hear his words, “my laugh would have landed on the Warm side.” 

Tears filled her eyes. “If I could fly backwards, I’d be a Frost fairy and keep you warm in the cold,” she whispered. 

“You already do,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. 

The moon rose ever higher, its ivory light cast over Pixie Hollow, dyeing Autumn Forest and Winter Woods in dark shadows and silver trails. Clarion and Milori rose a few inches, holding their positions even now, as both their hands protested from the warmth and cold, their glow all the more beautiful in their opposing natures… 

Finally, they tenderly disentangled their fingers and pulled away, both reluctant to part and yet knowing they had already delayed this rendezvous’s ending too long. At last, with the last brushes of their fingertips touching in farewell, they flew backwards from one another, unwilling to let the other out of their sight. Not yet. 

Slowly, the fairies hovered further and further back until at last the trees on both sides obscured their glows. 

Clarion released a long, shaky breath. She rubbed her chilly hands together, her heart pounding as loudly as a stampede of rabbits through a summer field. Trembling, she touched the place on her cheek that Milori had tenderly caressed for so long, and marveled at how cold her skin still felt. She imagined what Pixie Hollow would be like if the cold didn’t bother her. 

Milori pressed his back against the nearest tree, breathing deeply. He stared down at his hands, fascinated that a pain like this, a burning that made the very skin on his body seem to melt away, was what constantly drew him back to the Border. He wondered if fate had been kinder would they have been able to share warmth like this, comfortably, happily? 

The moon and stars above seemed to wink cheerfully as the two fairies returned to their bedrooms on opposite sides of Pixie Hollow, clinging to what little warmth and cold they shared between them…


End file.
